By Bruce Northam

Posts tagged “Baltics

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOUR ABILITY TO CREATE CHANGE (Estonia) ~

Estonian cop rocks out on a city bus

A country’s history is discovered in its songs.

 

Music mobilizes mortals. Estonia lacks military might and has always been surrounded by much larger countries with intimidating armies. Russia, Germany, and Sweden all vied for its control, creating a tug of war that lasted centuries. Tough times. Inspired by the fall of the Iron Curtain, Estonia symbolically overcame its final suppressor, the U.S.S.R., when country-wide choir jam-bands launched their Singing Revolution. A Baltic Woodstock. Here, choirs outrank sports as a national pastime—some attracting as many as 30,000 singers. Song festival fairgrounds, with their signature bandshell arches, are everywhere.

 

After 50 years of Soviet repression, in August, 1989, two million Baltic citizens, including people from neighboring Latvia and Lithuania, created an unbroken 350-mile human chain linking the countries in their call for freedom. The likeminded people clutched hands, and changed their destiny. Estonia, where medieval meets modern, sang itself free. The three original flags of the Baltics had been outlawed with possession punishable by prison and torture. Swiftly, these flags—hidden inside walls and ovens for decades—began waving all over the country. The keynote battle-charge song, My Fatherland is My Love, has since become an unofficial national anthem.

 

We’re all hooked on songs. While in Estonia, I asked several street-strolling locals to sing for me, and true to form, they obliged. One woman sang the entire unofficial anthem as we stood on an empty sidewalk. This fallout of the Baltic Singing Revolution made me wonder, what would the U.S. choose if it needed a new anthem to sing its way out of a real jam? Won’t Back Down, Born in the USA, American Woman, Highway to Hell, Don’t Stop Believin’?

 

Healing conflict with music, now that’s a concept. Follow your melody.

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

Estonia’s national bird is the barn swallow. It’s no pin-up like the bald eagle, nor a chart-busting singer—but, aptly, an agile survivor for all seasons.

 

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” —Willy Wonka

Owners of Estonia’s (home) Restaurant nAnO


PRESUME SMALL COUNTRIES HAVE BIG OUTLOOKS ~

Shades of freedom—evolving from red (communist) to green (democracy)…

Latvian singer Linda Leen (right) at Riga’s central market

Latvian singer Linda Leen (right) at Riga’s central market

As opposed to huge countries like the U.S., where some residents can live lifetimes without encountering foreigners, residents of small countries with numerous neighbors have global outlooks by necessity. A tiny country with a big reputation for nightlife, Latvia has been free from Soviet occupation since 1989. Its photogenic capital, Riga, is viewed by some untamed party-seeking Euros as an inexpensive binge getaway. It’s not surprising considering that Riga’s Old City overflows with inviting and inexpensive bars and restaurants. When inbound weekend warriors let their hair down, it can annoy the locals.

 

Riga’s immense European-style central market is not on the party circuit. There, I asked a local what she thought about the inbound party animals. At that moment, a coiffed Russian sauntered by. Tearing the veneer off any illusion, the local nodded toward the showboat and replied with a twist: “That’s what happens when a hairdo becomes a hair-don’t.”

 

I stood in that same spot near the seafood peddlers, and it got better. A hardcover book-toting local guy waltzed by, and I asked him about Latvian hairstyles. Lacking caché but logging originality, he predicted, “Non-judgment day is near.” I remind myself that when you ask the wrong question, you’ll rarely get the right answer.

 

Reborn Baltic liberty in the air, I accosted another local who waved me off with a Latvian slur. A nearby woman witnessed my dismissal and asked me if I needed help. I asked her how Latvian life had changed with democracy, and how Russians, their former occupiers, got along with Latvians. Her offering: Self-praise is not an endorsement.

 

Happy with that trio of swift informal interviews, I walked towards a doorway and saw an elderly man decked out in an Art Nouveau period outfit. Motionless, he stared contemplatively toward the market’s breezy open-air exit. I waved hello, and he flapped a no thank you. The helpful woman I’d just met was keeping pace a step behind me. She saw me gesture toward the sharp-dressed man and again asked if I needed assistance. I said no, but leered toward the Art Nouveau guy suggesting that he might. They had a brief conversation and the man then exited the building.

 

“What did he say?” I asked her.

 

She pointed at the illuminated EXIT sign hovering over the arched stone doorway, and explained that he also regarded it as a starting point…

 

“Every exit is also an entrance.”

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

“Ten years ago, we sell all our snakes to China. So now we have many more rats. The rats are very tasty.” —Deckhand, during float down Myanmar’s Ayeyarwady River

 

(from: The Directions to Happiness: A 135-Country Quest for Life Lessons)